


When Stars Collide

by kirschtrash



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancing, Drunk Dancing, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Happy Birthday Victor Nikiforov, Humor, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov, Pole Dancing, Silly, Stress Relief, its literally just silliness, there's no other way i can label this thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, now a five-time gold-winning champion, couldn't remember the last time he felt alive.So when one familiar (and rather tipsy) stranger with stars in his eyes took his hand, and dragged him into one reckless, breathless night - well, how could he resist?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title of this thing: "What Really Went Down At That Grand Prix Banquet."
> 
> (this was inspired by [this gorgeous art](http://genicecream.tumblr.com/post/154361047294) by [genicecream](http://genicecream.tumblr.com/)! You guys can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash) and [Tumblr](http://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/) too!)

Do you believe in miracles?

‘Miracles’ is too big of a word. How about memories? Not the kind that you forget after a while, no. These are the kinds of memories that are eternal, events that are seemingly so far fetched yet so amazing that they end up lasting forever - do you believe in that? Do you believe in moments of significance like these, little infinities within infinities that have the power to completely change your life? Would you have hope in something so simple, so special?

Highly unlikely, you might say. Impossible at best, some might even assert. Viktor used to say that himself.

Alas, he was bound to believe otherwise.

*

 

Viktor Nikiforov was surprised by how silent the entire banquet hall had gotten.

Which was strange, considering the masses of people crowding against one another, ranging from the most noteworthy personalities to the more mediocre performers. They scattered across the expanse of the room, chatting aimlessly with glasses of champagne in their hands. Soft music emanated within the room through hidden speakers, the tune so calming it made his eyes droopy with sleep.

Even then – why was the banquet so quiet?

Maybe it was because of the way everyone refused to speak anything louder than a whisper. Any bit of gossip shared, any piece of advice given and received, it all remained in a voice so low even people standing close had to strain their ears. Even the people who laughed at jokes felt it necessary to smother their giggles behind their dainty palms – lest the humor spread into others.  
It wasn’t as if Viktor didn’t like the quiet, and the sense of tranquility it brought. The peace was always welcome – but for a party held to celebrate the victorious, and to commemorate all the efforts executed by each and every individual in the Grand Prix series, where was the entire thrill? Where was the fun, the _buzz_? Where was all the contagious energy?

In the end, he was made to believe that it just might have been his own fault. Maybe he made himself impervious to the voices of others - their words, their laughter, their happiness. Maybe the people never did force him into this weird isolation; maybe he himself built those walls around his mind in the first place. At least that made more sense. _  
_

Unable to do anything else, he was just about to go and get some champagne, when he felt someone rest a hand on his shoulder.

The touch felt unfamiliar – but the voice was anything but:

“ _Tsk, tsk_ , Viktor - already planning to get thoroughly wasted, huh?” said Christophe, his fellow victor. His cheeks were dusted a soft pink, a cheeky smile playing around his lips. He glanced at the glass in Viktor’s hand suggestively, and it was then that he realized that he might have been drinking his third glass of champagne already. _Damn_.

In his defense, Viktor lifted his chin in the air. “Don’t worry - I’m only drinking enough to have a fun time."

“Hm, and is it working?”

Well, was it? Was alcohol going to lift the spirit of the entire room? Was it going to change the fact that their supposedly grand banquet felt more like a funeral party at best?

Viktor could only let out a sigh – more out of annoyance than anything else.

Gladly, Chris didn’t ask for a further extension of his opinion. “Well, do what you must - but you better be careful. Too much liquor, and your heart’s gonna grow wild. Once you’re out of control, who’s gonna stop you?”

“A case of the wild heart, and here?” he snorted. “That’s highly improbable.”

“Ah, that’s what they all say,” grinned Chris, as he leaned against the table behind him, piled high with food of all kinds, ranging from the sweetest of desserts, to the spiciest of meals. He twisted around, grabbed a shrimp from the nearest cocktail glass, and chewed on it.

Sucking on the tips of his fingers, he winked. “But I won't complain - so long as you have a good time!”

Viktor was compelled to roll his eyes at that, as he turned around. Sometimes that was the only thing he could do when it came to the vague statements his friend would make.

Breathing out a long, tired sigh, dragged too long for his age, he walked across the length of the hall. He tucked one hand in his pocket, maneuvering himself around the swarms of people, both big and small. Flicking his silvery-grey bangs out of his eyes, he spared a look around him.  
_Well, at least this place is beautiful_ , he thought. Despite the mundane people sucking the very soul out of the party, the marvelous paintings of times gone past adorning the walls was definitely deserving of praise. Carved marbled pillars, with golden work done around the edges, and the various sculptures that stood on their pedestals were all a sight for sore eyes. Viktor purposefully (and without the slightest of regret) let his feet carry him as slowly as possible, letting himself absorb every little detail like a sponge, committing it to memory. ‘ _There’s beauty in the little things_ ’ – wasn’t that how the saying went?

He was just taking his merry time studying one painting, of a ship as dark as the night itself sailing through blue, treacherous waters, when he saw a waiter pass by him. Calling for the timid young boy, he asked for a refill of his glass. That was when he let his eyes wander through the center of the entire banquet hall. And that was when he saw it – that little moment of significance.

There were at least fifty people covering the expanse of the entire room, too busy in conversation. They all darted here and there across the room restlessly. They all had their heads ducked low - all except one.

That one person - he stood still, and he only looked up.

Viktor could only see one half of that stranger’s face, tilted upwards in a queer sort of interest. The man also had a glass of champagne in his hand, but it felt as if he were unaware of it. For all he knew, maybe he was completely oblivious of everything around him. He was so intent on studying what lay above him, as if it were the only thing that truly mattered. From the way he stood so fixated, unwilling to waver for even the slightest of moments… it definitely caught Viktor off guard.

 _What is he even looking at…?_ he couldn’t help but wonder. Curious, he tilted his own head up, and felt his breath leave him.

Up above him, the ceiling was anything but bare; there were a billion flowers scattered haphazardly in every direction, all painted over a large pool of water, as blue as the sky. No two flowers were alike, and their petals were painted with such insane precision, they almost looked alive. Their colors clashed so magnificently, Viktor was at a loss of words. Soft ripples marked the water's surface, making it seem as if it were a pond anyone could touch if they reached high enough.

_How come I never noticed this - no, how come he's the only who saw it?_

Once the wonderment subsided, he let his gaze wander away from the painting, thinking that that might have been the end of it. But the last thing he expected was to see that stranger staring back at him.

Their eyes met, and it felt as if that moment lasted a lifetime. A million and one things were felt and exchanged in that one locked glance - confusion, surprise, shock... and then a soft smile from the other man.

' _It's beautiful, isn't it?_ ' he seemed to be asking.

Speechless, Viktor could only blink dumbly.  
Unconsciously, his feet took two steps forward towards him - but before he could go any farther than that, a hand grabbed his coat from behind.

"Oi, Oi, Oi," someone spoke in an assertive tone. "Where're you heading - don't tell me you feel sorry for that idiot!"

Recognizing the speaker immediately, he said exasperatedly, " _'Idiot?'_   Who are you talking about, Yurio?"

"That guy, the one you can't stop staring at - Yuuri Katsuki."

 _So that's who he is_. No wonder he looked a little recognizable. He had been a fellow contestant in the Grand Prix series; if he strained his memory a bit more, he could recall a few pieces of his performances - including his shaky quads, but flawless step sequences. A worthy opponent, he could confirm himself. But unfortunately, all his talent couldn't execute to their utmost extent on the day of the finals, for his mistakes overcame his skills. He had ended up in the very last row of names, too. _  
_

"I don't feel sorry for him," he muttered. "And I just happened to glance at him, that's all."

"Well you can save your Cinderella moment for later," Yurio said, pointing a thumb behind his back. "Before you go run to your Prince Charming, you need to deal with another wave of admirers coming your way."

“In case you didn't notice that brunette constantly staring at you for the past two hours, they’re here to interview the both of us. So, I suggest you straighten your tie too.”

That shut the youthful Russian very well. Yuri Plisetsky turned around, straightening his sleek blue suit with a puff of breath. He proceeded first, dissolving himself into the oncoming group of guests. Viktor was mentally preparing himself to do just the same; he had become an expert at fake but courteous nods at anything they spoke, their words sugar-coated to the point that it made him nauseous.

Adjusting the knot around his neck, he was finally ready to face the people waiting for him. But even so, like an itch he couldn't ignore, he turned around, searching for a familiar stranger.

His eyes scanned far and wide as they could, but there was no sign of him. He had all but vanished.

_For someone who just tasted bitter defeat, he really seemed to love that painting._

*

Do you believe in luck?

Again, luck sounds a little too vague. Let me rephrase myself: do you ever wonder why there are moments when the tiniest of brushes of skin against skin, and even the littlest of glances between strangers feel so real, so crucial? Is it because that's when the planets align, or is that when some Capital-G-God has all his plans set out for you, and just for you? Would you believe in something so perfect? Would you want to believe that there could be times when it felt as if the Universe were planning something big for you - and the chance to seek that, it all lied within a small moment of significance?

Would you believe that?

That's so vague. A fanatic idea for dreamers, and nothing else. These are just some of the many things people might believe.

Viktor's mind might have believed the same too, back at the banquet. But his heart had other ideas.

*

“God, finally they’re gone! I thought they’d never leave!”

“I’m pretty sure two of them had a crush on you - and if I'm not mistaken, that brunette might've been drooling all the while...”

“Oh, please – don’t pretend as if the one in the black dress wasn’t infatuated with you. She was giggling like a teenager at every lame joke you cracked.”

Despite Viktor wanting to roll his eyes and bite back with a statement of his own, he couldn’t really counter what Yurio had just said.  
He shuddered at the thought of her. She was just like the other women who loved batting their eyes at him at every grand banquet. They almost always found some way to talk to him, found some reason to continue to stick as close to him as possible. It wasn’t as if all of them were venomous – no, there would always be one lady or the other who would be kind, or just genuinely fascinated. But they were only the selected few from the entire bunch. Most of them didn’t even look at him – they only looked at his fame, his fortune. They only sought the gold around his neck, and not the one in his heart.

 _Snap out of it, Viktor_. “Just a little while more, and it’ll be over,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. The least he expected was a dejected hum from his junior – but what he got instead was an amused smirk:

“Oh, but it seems as if the party has just started for someone.” Lifting a finger, he pointed at the farthest end of the hall. “Look over there.”

Viktor let his eyes follow his finger’s direction, eyes scanning the room until they stood fixated at one person. A familiar stranger.

_Oh, dear._

There was Yuuri Katsuki, walking across the expanse of the room – or at least that was what he was trying to do. _Waddling_ was a more appropriate word, for after every two proper steps he took, he would stumble and trip at his own feet. Many times he swayed dangerously, and many times he ended up running right into actual people, but that didn’t faze him one bit. It was then that he understood – he was drunk.

_What’s he going to do…?_

That unspoken question of his got a silent answer when Yuuri finally stopped before the banquet’s DJ – a short, timid man, easy to lose in a huge crowd if you weren’t attentive enough. His eyes bulged wide when he saw the Japanese figure skater stumble before him, mildly threatening. He broke into a sweat when he started demanding one request: “Change th’ music.”

His voice was slurred, and his words blurred into one another. But his tone was assertive, it was unyielding. “I said change th’ music!”

The DJ finally found his voice, as he stuttered, “I- I’m afraid I can’t do that-“

“Whad’you mean you can’t? What kinda DJ are you, huh?” he scolded, scrunching his nose up in distaste. A few heads started turning in their direction, and what little voices that did fill the party with some semblance of noise started to cease. Some seemed shocked, while most were just plain speechless.

But Yuuri didn’t even make the effort to take note of what was around him. He swayed to his side, stumbled upright, and then lifted a finger. “I could do a bett’r job than you! Your- your music’s makin’ me wanna take a nap!”

A giggle escaped Viktor’s lips, after which he had to hide his smile behind his fingers, lest anyone saw. It wasn’t as if he could help it. _Glad someone noticed._

“Change th’ music, already – I came here t’ have a fun time!”

“Sir, I’m af-afraid your request cannot be granted-“

And just when Viktor thought the poor drunken figure skater was done for, came none other than Christophe Giacometti, sauntering around people here and there with stealth. With a grace of his own, he snaked an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, hugging him to his side so lovingly it felt as if they had known each other for years. After that, he started talking, each word dripping with flattery. It wasn’t long before the DJ was helpless, as well as hopeless – he had no choice but to give in.

All of a sudden, the soft tunes of the piano vanished from the air, leaving behind still silence. It was subtle, but sharp enough so that everyone in the entire hall noticed. They all stopped talking altogether, anticipation quivering in the air like a string pulled taut, ready to break any moment. Everyone’s heads turned, and they all stared at Yuuri.

And then, the music started playing.

It was anything but sleep-inducing like the last tune – it was obnoxiously loud, unrestrained, and extremely bold. The silence all but crashed when the first beat blasted through the speakers, making the entire floor vibrate. Then came the rest of the song, the sounds of drums and strange, techno tunes molding into a funky song.

Yurio, on the other hand, could have twirled with joy, his blue eyes shining like gemstones. Smiling, he said, “I love this song! Glad to know someone has a good taste in music!”

Most people wouldn't agree to his opinion, for there were some who immediately started covering their ears, their faces expressing their utmost shock and disbelief combined. And although Viktor wasn’t adept to the queer hip-hop tunes of their age, he couldn’t help but sway his head in time with the base. _Glad to see someone decide to change things up like this_ , he thought, amused. _Sadly this might be the most we'd get this year._

Well, he would be proved wrong very soon.

It hadn’t even been a minute into the song, when Viktor glanced back at Yuuri, and saw him stumbling away from the DJ. On the way, he grabbed an entire champagne bottle right out of a waiter’s hands. Without restraint, and without regret, he started chugging down every bit of drink left in it, not even stopping for a breath’s pause. Gasps ensued from anyone who laid eyes on him, appalled by his wild behavior. But apparently Yuuri didn’t notice any of it.

_No, that’s not it – he just didn’t care._

The thought made Viktor press a finger to his chin, and smile.

Yuuri stumbled and swayed constantly, till he finally reached the center of the hall. People began deserting the space when he approached nearer, keeping their distance well and wide from him. Just when he stood still, there was a ring of people surrounding him. All eyes stared at him, and only him.

Slowly, surely, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the floor. Loosening the tie around his neck, he paused for two breaths – and then he started moving his feet along with the beat. Soon, his hips began to follow, then his chest, his arms, and even his head. Before anybody had the slightest clue of what was to happen, Yuuri Katsuki had begun break dancing.

And despite his moves being clumsy and practically everywhere, there certainly was a queer sort of grace to it all. Sloppy, but surprisingly entertaining.

That seemed to have bothered Yuuri. He clucked his tongue, reckoning him with distaste similar to a teacher judging their least favorite pupil. “He’s ruining the entire song – ugh, it’s fucking annoying. Someone’s gotta stop that guy-“

But he was interrupted when Chris joined them once again. He shouted over the music: “You’re welcome!”

Viktor laughed, while Yurio fumed. “For what? The music’s nice, but that Yuuri’s ruining it!”

“Are you kidding me? He’s killing it! Look at him!”

And when Viktor did properly glance at him, he was glad he did; at that moment in time, he was dancing as if his life depended on it. Shirt tails hanging out, hair ruffled, and his face thoroughly flushed, it was as if he were lost in a world of his own, a world where he might have been far away from his losses, his failures, his sadness. From the way he danced, laughed, and refused to open his eyes, most might have believed that he had won the Grand Prix Series. _Maybe he truly did believe that,_ he thought. _Or maybe he was just really good at hiding the truth._

But there was no lie in one thing: in a room where he was the only one dancing, the only one creating music with his body, he was the only one truly living out of everyone.

Yurio was still pissed, as he hissed: “Oh, he’s killing it alright; he’s slaughtering a perfectly good song – hell, I could dance better if given the chance!”

Unconsciously, Viktor and Christophe looked at each other. A small moment of understanding was exchanged between the two, followed by a nod of agreement from Viktor – and a twinkle of mirth from Chris’ eyes.

“You’re certain you’d dance better than Yuuri?” asked Chris.

“Yes.”

“You’re completely sure you’d win a dance-off against him any day?” reaffirmed Viktor.

“Absolutely!”

There was that mutual glance once more. And then both men looped their arms around each of Yurio’s arms.

“Oi oi, what are you-“

“If you’re so sure you can beat him-“ began Chris.

“-then win!” completed Viktor.

The humor as well as any kind of confidence fell from Yurio’s face, till he was left shaking his head in severe denial.

“Hey, let’s not- let’s not do this now guys, I – I was just saying it as a joke- Oi! Oi stop pulling me! Guys!”

But both Chris and Viktor were having none of it. Turning a deaf ear to his continuous cries for cooperation, they dragged him through the ever-growing crowd right towards the center. Without a moment’s hesitance, they pushed him through the edge of the circle. He stumbled into the empty space at the center, where Yuuri was still dancing away.

It was only moments later that the Japanese skater turned around, and noticed the Russian junior stand before him with a perplexed expression. For the longest time, Yuuri only stared at Yurio.  
But then, he raised a hand before him. Curling his fingers, he flicked his wrist twice. _Bring it on_ , he seemed to say.

That hardly helped tame Yurio's fire - if anything, it only fanned the flames.

Without a single word of protest, he rolled his sleeves up, and loosened his tie.

And then ensued the most intense dance-off Viktor had ever had the grace to witness. It was like a full fledged war, their weapons being only their moves. Both sides pulled off such intense steps and sequences, each of them matching the fast beat in their own way. When Yuuri tried flips and headstands of his own, Yurio would execute his own hidden break dancing talent by spinning himself on the ground in the most inhumane ways possible.

Everyone in the banquet hall was astounded to say the least. They stared with eyes so wide they might have fallen out if they didn’t take care. Confusion, shock, incredulity – it was painted across each and every face. Christophe was having the time of his life, hooting and whistling at the pair of men battling against one another. Viktor on the other hand… he could only stare with utter astonishment.

Their raging fight continued for another three hip hop songs, their hard rhythms making the entire floor shake. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Yurio had discarded his coat away, while Yuuri had folded his sleeves farther up his arms. Relentless, they raged and waged even more, even when the music suddenly shifted to techno tunes; neither was willing to lose, and neither was willing to give up.  
From the corner of his eyes, Viktor saw a few people trickle into the gaping circle, their hands wrapped around their partners tight. They started filling the empty spaces, and it wasn't long before they started moving along with the beat. There were still too many who only stared on with shocked expressions, their dainty hands clutching their chests. But then, there were a few ladies and gentlemen who had begun dancing, too; there were a few people who finally broke away from the silence, and made some noise. They were the ones who were beaming the brightest.

Viktor himself couldn't believe what he saw. Only a few moments ago, the entire party had been so quiet, so dull. Everything was so stagnant before.

And now, it was anything but - all thanks to that little bit of disturbance to shatter the stillness. That rebellious change brought by one familiar stranger.

It took a while for him to finally feel the huge grin on his face.

Alas, the grin soon fell when he saw Yuuri Katsuki stare directly at him.

His gaze was wide-eyed and a little confused at first. But then his eyes narrowed like a hawk's. Despite the people crowding the room, and despite the distance between the two, he refused to let his gaze waver.

_What's going on-?_

Like an unspoken answer for a silent question, Yuuri responded by approaching him threateningly, like a predator stalking its prey. Viktor couldn't help but retract little by little, his feet talking one step backwards for every step Yuuri took forward. For someone so thoroughly drunk, he sure was persistent-

 _Thud_. With one more step taken backwards, Viktor's back struck a marbled pillar. Yuuri stopped advancing further, when all that separated the two of them was just a foot's distance. A sweat gathered at his brow, as he stared at the Japanese skater's red face glistening with sweat, still intently judging him with narrowed eyes.

And then, he grabbed for his tie, and tugged.

Relentlessly, Yuuri Katsuki pulled him right through the crowd by his tie. People around them gasped at the sight of such a foolishly bold move - but Yuuri was having none of it. Though he stumbled through his drunken stupor, he was determined to steal him away. Viktor was too shocked to even react properly; he only spluttered:

"Excuse me- hey, what do you think you're doing!"

"Helpin' you have a fun time!"

Like a slap to the face, he felt the shock make him waver. _But how could he tell...?_

Before he could wrench himself free of his iron-strong grip, he let go of him right at the center of the dance floor. The dance battle going on earlier seemed to have ended; he could see Yurio panting away from his peripheral vision, his entire get up an absolute mess. If it weren't for his blond mop of hair covering his face, he might have had a glimpse of a smile.

He was robbed of that when Yuuri took another two steps towards him. An upbeat song began to blast through the speakers, edging closer to the dance-pop genre. And then, he started dancing again.

But this time, he had another request to make: "C'mon! Dance with me!"

_Me - and dance?_

It felt as if there a million eyes, all staring at him, all stripping him from his skin, judging him down to his core. Suddenly, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe.

"Wh-what would others say-"

"Who cares about wha' others think? You-" he stopped, as a hiccup interrupted him. Squinting, he pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You're here t' have a good time, so dance! Who's stoppin' you?!"

_Who's stopping you?_

As Viktor stared at Yuuri Katsuki, in all his flushed, intoxicated honesty, he couldn't help but want to go wild. He couldn't resist the urge to want to be free, to truly live.

When he looked down, he wasn't surprised to see his own feet tap along with the beat. He wasn't surprised when he felt his hips sway with the tune around him.

However, he was more than surprised when he looked up. That was when he saw Yuuri stare at him with eyes glimmering like galaxies of their own. His cheeks were heated and burning pink, but that smile of his refused to show anything but happiness.

As if the strings binding his legs immovable suddenly snapped free, Viktor couldn't fight it anymore - he finally gave in to the music.

Exhilarating didn't even begin to describe the feeling inside his chest, when he let his body flow along with the melody, upbeat and energetic. It was in a language he couldn't understand, but the music and the energy it brought was contagious. He couldn't believe it - he was actually dancing in front of everyone, and he wasn't alone.

Their dance didn't last just one song. It continued on for as many as five, maybe even more. Viktor had lost his count long, long ago. They twisted and turned around each other, dancing as if their very lives depended on it. Yuuri kept on spurring Viktor enthusiastically, as he clapped his hands and swayed his hips entrancingly. And he really couldn't resist; the world was but a blur around him, and the only thing that mattered was the figure beside him.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Yuuri held his hand. Somewhere in the rush of it all, Viktor forgot how to let go. Instead, he circled his own arm around his waist, keeping him close. Soon, they only danced in a pair, synchronized so well someone might have wondered whether they had been dancing together for as long as forever.  
Viktor definitely felt that way. He knew just where to guide his body when the tune shifted, knew just when to grip his waist tight enough so that he could dip low to the ground. He knew just when to let him take the lead, trusting him with his body, knowing that he could never do him wrong. He knew just when to lean into him, just when to let go of hand, only to fall back into his embrace.

He didn't know why that was so; why he could understand a stranger better than anyone else - it was beyond him. But he couldn't help but feel as if he had known him all his life whenever he held his hand. And when they'd hold each other close, only a breath keeping them apart, he could have sworn he saw colors erupt from him, colors he could feel against his fingertips - so genuine, so breathtakingly real.

For someone who had known grey for over twenty years of his life, Viktor was more than just enamored.

Viktor didn't realize that the song had died out until moments later, when the pair of them stood still. They were panting, sweating, _smiling_ like complete idiots. He could feel everyone's eyes - of the youthful contestants who looked up to a stern, lifeless five-time champion; of the senior critics who expected nothing short of discipline and finesse from a victor. He could feel their judging stares, wondering what happened to the plain skater they all were accustomed to.

But their stares didn't matter, not when he felt so alive.

Viktor didn't even realize that he was giggling for no apparent reason. _Maybe it's the alcohol_ , his mind wanted to believe. _Or maybe it's the way his smile is so infectious_ , was what his heart had decided.

Gripping his waist tight, he was itching to say something. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth around a wordless speech - but what interrupted them was not a shout, but a whistle.

It rung in the air. And then came the very devilish, very drunk voice: "The show's not over, people! It's just begun!"

Turning around, Viktor gaped at the stripper's pole Christophe had had people wheel into the hall. The steel glistened brightly under the warm lights, as it stood tall and erect, towering over everyone. Who could possibly want to use that...?

He certainly got his answer, when Yuuri began to strip in front of everyone.

He was done unbuckling his pants, when Viktor exclaimed, "Y-yuuri! What're you doing-"

"I gotta go there - I promis'd Chris a performance he can't ever forget!"

Helplessly, he gripped his hand, stopping him from unbuttoning his shirt anymore. "But what will everyone think-"

"Who cares about what others think?" he snapped back, gently swatting his hands away. "They don't live my life, an' they don't live yours, do they?"

Viktor was rendered speechless, more so when Yuuri dropped his pants right where he stood, strutting after the tall pole in his disheveled shirt and boxer briefs. He might have felt offended by his assertiveness, by the accusatory tone to his harsh words. He might have felt angry towards a stranger who knew just what to say to him.

And yet, he was beaming when he watched people wordlessly make way for Yuuri as he approached the pole. He bit his lip out of sheer anticipation when he finally held the metal in his hands, standing still.

Beyoncé's sensual voice began to echo through the entire room.  Yuuri threw his head back, circled his hips along with the beat. When the music started to pick up a slow, deep tempo, he lifted himself off of the ground entirely, spinning around the pole with an expertise no drunk man could ever hope to have. With the way he glided around the pole, anyone might have thought he were defying gravity itself. He was the music once more, as his body rolled sultrily with the rich, gritty song, moves flowing like honey. It was all intoxicating.

Chris made his entry not too long after, completely bare of clothing - well, except for a thong that didn't quite do its job right. He danced around the pole with not a single restraint, rolling his hips and spreading his limbs with every drop of the beat as if there was nobody watching him. After giving his own passionate performance, the two of them had decided to do a duet around the same pole. For that, Yuuri took off his own shirt, but let the tie dangle round his neck. Synchronizing like a work of art, they gave the people a performance they never asked for, but a piece of entertainment they couldn't complain about.

Dance-battles and a strip show, both in what was known to be the most formal event of the entire Grand Prix series: a bizarre, silly concept. Borderline sinful, and wholly preposterous for most, even.

But a little bit of craziness didn't hurt anybody, did it?

Everything afterwards was a blur - the echoing cheers, the guttural music in the background, and the flashing lights. Viktor expected the entire night to slip through his fingers like that - with the music booming in his ears, a tingling feeling of silliness running underneath his skin, and an unspoken urge to dance with a familiar stranger once again in his heart.

But he really should have reevaluated himself.

He didn't even register the fact that their pole dancing session had come to an end until he saw the dense crowd part a narrow way for one very drunk guest to stumble through. But by the time he did snap himself out of his state of drunken reverie, Yuuri launched himself at him. He locked his arms around his neck, refusing to let go.

Yuuri was speaking, then, talking aimlessly about a resort his parents owned in Japan. His words were so slurry, he could hardly make out one sentence from the other.

But in the end, he made a simple request, as clear as crystal:

"Be my coach, Viktor!"

He said that so simply, as if he were telling everyone that the sky was blue. _You're bluffing_ , was what he wanted to say, wanted to believe. But God, those eyes of his... Eyes as bright as those could never lie.

His breath hitched, and he forgot how to breathe. _I'm not used to this - I'm not used to you._

_I've never met anyone like you._

One part of Viktor wanted to bolt from there; it wanted to drop everything and run away from every strange fluttery feeling he ever felt that night. One part of him, the part he never knew existed, wanted nothing but to lose himself in that hopeful stare of his. An unconscious tug of war, that was what it felt like.

In the end, he ended up surprising even himself.

"You need some fresh air," he said, his voice directed to no one in particular. Without another word, he grabbed Yuuri's hand, (and his pants that Christophe was kind enough to get) and dragged him out of the banquet hall.

The both of them were stumbling, their steps slipping and faltering as their feet slapped against the smooth marble. But God forbid that their grip on their hands falter.  
Heart pounding, breaths heaving, they ran - and they only stopped once the cold night air met them, sharp and stinging like a slap to the face.

It seemed as if he finally remembered how to breathe, when he let go of Yuuri's hand, and bent to catch his breath. Taking in large gulps of air, he let himself gather his scattered thoughts.

And the only logical thing that came up to his mind and out of his mouth was:

"What the hell just happened?"

_Moments ago, I was minding my own business. I was drinking, chatting with people, having a modest night. Nobody told me I'd end up getting dragged into a dance-battle. Nobody told me I'd get to taste true joy. Nobody told me I'd understand what it meant to feel alive._

_And nobody told me that all it took to feel all of that was a drunk man._

"Alcohol - tha's what happened!" exclaimed Yuuri Katsuki from beside him, with the joy of a toddler out to buy his first toy.

Viktor could only roll his eyes, mildly annoyed at the strange predicament that very person had pushed him into. "How about you shut up and wear your pants?" he said, throwing his black dress-pants at his face.

With the grace of a headless chicken, he tried - and failed - to catch them in mid air, as they struck him in the face. Huffing, he clumsily wore them, humming a soft song to himself. Once he was all buckled up, he proceeded to skip down the marbled staircase, taking them two at a time. Glancing behind him, he shouted: "Try and catch me!"

God, he just couldn't stay mad at him.

Sighing, Viktor ran after the stranger, stepping down the stairs and into what seemed to be an entire back garden. Darkness pressed in around everything, as the night rose to its utmost potential. Not a single soul could be seen or heard anywhere there - everyone must have been inside, enjoying a little bit of crazy, maybe.

As he reached the leafed archway, he saw Yuuri twirling and skipping across the garden, dancing to a song only he could hear. He looked utterly silly, with the tie around his head fluttering in the wind, and a huge smile plastered across his face. Despite the cold, despite the exhaustion, he just didn't stop. And he didn't want him to.

Happily, Viktor ran after him. Once he got close enough to him, he couldn't contain it - he said:

"That was really bold of you, y'know?"

Twirling on the tips of his toes, Yuuri asked: "Wha' was?"

" _You_ , dancing like that in front of everybody. Nobody would have thought to do something so... daring."

That was when he finally stopped moving. He stumbled to a stop, blinking at him owlishly. Then, almost bashfully, he looked away.

"Yea' well, I dunno. I just... couldn' resist."

"Couldn't resist? What d'you mean?"

Scratching beneath his ear, he explained: "Not sayin' it out of no grudge or anythin', but the party was so... boring. I just wanted to-to do somethin' reckless, somethin' that would help make my night bett'r."

For a fraction of a second, his facade flickered, revealing a dark, wretched shade of sadness. But that moment was gone when a gust of wind blew over them, as Yuuri sighed through the coldness, almost welcoming it like an embrace. Once he found the proper words (or the courage), he continued: "I didn'- I didn' wanna be the freak of the entire banquet, but I didn' like the feelin' of being grey, either..."

 _And that's what I've known for as long as twenty years._ He didn't really feel the little smile playing around his own lips until he said:

"I didn't think you were a freak."

Yuuri snapped his gaze at him sharply, all confused and nervous. "Huh?" he said, before a hiccup interrupted him.

Playfully, he edged a little closer to him, nudging his shoulder with his own. Smiling a bit more comfortably, he repeated himself: "I said, I didn't think you were a freak."

If Yuuri's cheeks had been a deep pink before, now his entire face was beet-red, as he looked away with a smile so endearing, Viktor felt his own cheeks heat up out of their own accord.

They grew warmer when he realized had been staring at his face for so long. Coughing awkwardly, he looked to his side - and it was then that he actually saw the centerpiece of the grand garden itself.

Right at the heart of the entire garden, there stood a tall fountain, majestic and flawless in every sense of the word. At the center, stood a pedestal ten feel tall, with a ceramic bowl cut out on top of it. A thick stream of water spurt out of it, directed up in the air. It's droplets fanned over the many maidens surrounding the structure, all hand-carved out of smooth, silken stone. Each of them held vases in their hands, all of which endlessly poured water of of their own. Though their eyes had no depth, the curves and crevices that marked their soft faces made them feel alive.

There were spotlights hidden beneath the water that set the entire structure in light, making it stand out in the dark night. Every other tree and bush was blanketed in darkness. Viktor was surprised it wasn't the first thing he saw the moment he entered the garden.

As if his feet had a mind of their own, he stepped close to the fountain. His eyes landed on one of the pretty maidens who stood before him. Her face was contorted in a solemn kind of pain, the kind one felt when loneliness would eat one up from the inside. Viktor felt nothing but empathy for her.

"I don't know why you picked me, though."

It was directed to no one in particular. Viktor wasn't even aware that he had accidentally thought out loud - but of course, Yuuri Katsuki was attentive enough (even in sheer drunkenness) to listen.

"I pick'd you because you looked as if you wer' gonna kill someone," he slurred, stumbling so that he stood right in front of him. The white lights of the fountain made a hazy halo around his figure. Almost as if he were an apparition.

He hiccuped twice, before lifting a finger at him. "Y'looked like you could've used some fun, so I just extended the help!"

"But you didn't need to."

"And why's that? Hm?"

"Because- because, I-" he stuttered, he stammered, but couldn't bring it in himself to complete his sentence. He ended up sighing exasperatedly, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers, trying to regain his senses, trying to understand what he felt.

He inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. And he began: "Because... Because once you've made this- this image of yourself for others to see, for others to believe in, you can't let it break. Once you've gotten so used to grey, you don't want to feel anything... radiant."

Viktor believed that to be the truth - well, until Yuuri inserted:

"That's not what I saw."

"What you saw? Okay, then, enlighten me - what did you see?"

"What I saw was the victor of the Grand Prix Finals, the living-legend Viktor Nikiforov having a shitty time. I saw someone who wanted to live a little, but couldn't, because he was afraid of wha' others would say."

Appalled, Viktor interjected, crossing his arms: "Who said I was afraid? I'm not afraid of anybody!"

"Oh, you were! I saw it all in your eyes - and y'know what they say: the eyes never lie."

"That's bullshit-"

"You were so caught up in your own little image of yourself, that you jus' refused to loosen up a bit," Yuuri went on. "But that didn' mean y'didn' wanna have a fun time - oh, that was crystal clear on your face. You _wanted_ to drink, to party, t' live your life - but y' couldn' do it on your own. You were only waiting for that moment when y' could truly live, waiting for someone t' drag you in."

"Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure?"

Yuuri didn't reply for a few moments. He only stared, as deeply as any drunk man would. The wind filled the silence with its soft sighs.

"You didn' turn away when I told you to dance. You objected, sure... But you stayed, didn' you?"

He's just a stranger. Someone he had never known, never met in his entire life. Yet why did he know him better than he knew himself?

Yuuri smiled smugly when Viktor's silence stayed for too long, only fueling his apparent annoyance. He smirked, before lifting a swaying finger. With unyielding boldness, he pressed the finger right at the center of Viktor's forehead, tapping it twice. Viktor was completely caught off guard, more so when Yuuri began to speak:

"You wanted to light a fire so bad, but y'were afraid of it's flames. So y'did what you could - y'waited for the spark to come by itself."

Viktor was gaping at him like a fish, completely clueless of how to retort back. From how close he stood, he could catch the strong scent of champagne and sweat wafting off of his skin, but he didn't feel the least appalled. If anything, the annoyance bubbling in him had subsided to something much softer, something a little calmer... something different from the usual curiosity.

He didn't know what to call it. But one thing was for sure - it made his chest feel really light.

The subtle aura of tranquility that had settled over the both of them shattered when Yuuri took two steps back, throwing his arms wide open.

"And the day you fear your own flames - _oh_ , tha's the death of a man!" he shouted, quite theatrically. Walking backwards, he continued: "For how can someone live if they can't enjoy their life? How can you make memories if you're afraid of some recklessness? How can you call your life special if y'don'-" - he hiccuped, but quickly recovered - "-y'don't do somethin' crazy and borderline deranged?"

Viktor doubled over with laughter, finding his cinematic expressions and gestures amusing and adorable at the same time. When he tried to catch his breath, he wiped a tear of mirth out of his eyes. That was when he looked up, and noticed-

"Uhm, Y-Yuuri, you should watch where you're going-"

"Don't interrupt my speech, my Oscar is waiting for me!"

"But you're gonna-"

"Viktor, for the last time, don't interrupt me! Now, where was I - oh yeah, that quote from Shakespeare-"

"Yuuri, you should- oh God, watch out!"

Whatever Yuuri said, or wanted to say afterwards, all went down the drain with a huge splash - quite literally. Not even two steps, and the back of his legs struck the marbled edge of the fountain. He lost his balance, and fell right into the blue waters with a huge yelp.  
Hands shooting up in the air, he spluttered and gasped for breath as he resurfaced, entirely wet from top to bottom. His jet black hair splattered all across his forehead. With a wild look in his eyes that mirrored something quite close to shock, he held onto the slippery edge with all his might.

Viktor should have considered helping him out of the fountain before anything else. If anything, a gasp of shock or surprise might have sufficed.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the absolute absurdity of the entire night - but Viktor couldn't stop laughing.

He giggled till his sides hurt, more so when he caught a sight of Yuuri's expression - a mixture of both surprise and offense.

"W-wha's so f-funny, huh?" Yuuri stuttered, teeth clattering in the cold, to which he replied with a stronger fit of guffaws. "Hey, s-stop that!"

Wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes, Viktor quickly recovered. Afraid of invoking the skater's anger, he raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry, sorry, I - oh God - I just- you looked really funny there..."

He only pouted like a five year old, his fingers drumming against the wet marble miserably. " _Har, har, har_ , so funny. If you're done now, could y'help me out already?!"

Muffling his giggles (and failing), Viktor approached him quickly. As he came closer, he noticed how his shirt stuck to his skin so close, beads of water trickling down his cheeks and chin. _He must really feel cold_ , he thought dumbly.

Nevertheless, he reached out a hand for Yuuri to grab. He expected him to hold it, and lift himself out of the fountain - but logic didn't seem to cooperate with him that night.

Yuuri never even grabbed his hand - he reached out for his tie, and tugged hard.

And that was all it took before Viktor wobbled, and fell into the fountain himself. His cries of disbelief as well as utter surprise practically drowned when crystal clear waters flooded his vision, filling his mouth and nose until it was too much to bear. Quickly, he plopped his head out from underneath the water, panting and coughing his lungs out. His clothes stuck to his body uncomfortably, and the cold practically stung when a soft breeze blew over them.

That was when he heard _Yuuri_ laugh.

And he laughed hard, giggles bursting out of his mouth uncontrollably. His cheeks burned stark red with the effort, but his eyes were shut close, crinkling at the edges. He smiled so wide Viktor thought his face might have hurt, but Yuuri didn't seem to care.

Viktor might have found his laugh contagious. He might have even felt a blush taint his own cheeks when he noticed how Yuuri looked nothing like the dull Japanese skater he had glanced upon back at the banquet.

Maybe he did - but moments later, he felt a cheeky idea pop in his mind.

"Y-you should have seen the look on your face, God," Yuuri roared, slapping his knee out of spite. "Y'look just like a cat comin' out of the water! Oh, fuck, I can't breathe-"

But Viktor interrupted his speech - not with words of anger of his own, but a huge splash of water to his face.

Yuuri spluttered again, as he fell on his ass. Rubbing the chlorinated water out of his eyes, he glared at Viktor.

But then, he smirked.

"Oh, so tha's how's it gonna be, huh...?"

Hence, what was once thought to be a small prank morphed itself into the biggest water fight neither of them anticipated, but both were prepared for. When one would splash the other with a handful of water, the other would counter with a huge wave of their own. They spluttered, they gasped, and more than once they swore, but neither of them were willing to stop. Neither of them were willing to break their little bubble of fun.

No, they didn't want that to happen. The longer they chased each other around the fountain, the harder they laughed, and the wider they smiled. The more they wrestled against each other in the water, the lighter Viktor's chest felt. The cold air blew quietly and consistently, but it didn't sting anymore. In fact, Viktor didn't remember the last time he felt that warm.

_Is this what life really feels like?_

Maybe that was the case, or maybe that was just a slight taste of life. Maybe he had yet to discover what his life could be like, and the various ways he could live it. Viktor wasn't sure; but he knew that it might have never felt this special without one familiar stranger, who drowned his sorrows with alcohol, and danced as if nobody were watching him. The mere moment in time might have never become such a lasting memory if it weren't for Yuuri dragging him to rebel against his own fears, dancing before the entire world. It might have never been so beautiful if he had never spotted Yuuri Katsuki in the banquet hall, looking up at the sky when everybody else was too busy looking down.

*

To this day, Viktor recalled that night. He remembered Yuuri Katsuki, and his strange ways of teaching him how to love his life. He remembered how, in all his drunken glory, Viktor could see radiant life bleed out of him, like a canvas dripping with colors he couldn't even name, colors that made him sigh with wonder.

After experiencing that moment of beautiful significance, Viktor was compelled to believe in miracles.

Would you?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I did by commenting below! I'm open for contructive criticism (as well as love <3)!!


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